Floating Feathers to Foulweather Friends
by HalfASlug
Summary: 31st October, 2001. Hermione, at the end of an average day at work, remembers a not-so-average day she had ten years ago that changed her life in every way. Trio friendship fic.


_A/N: Hello! Long(ish) time no see! Well, not with any proper one-shots. Big thank you to Rokesmith for giving me (another) idea and causing this._

_Warning: This contains a few words that might bump this up to a T but not really._

_Disclaimer: J.K Rowling still owns Harry Potter and I'm still in debt to my own foulweather friends. I hope you guys never, ever read this._

* * *

It was not long after six when Hermione found herself glaring at her reflection in the toilets at work. She had just came out of the meeting from hell with the most bigoted man she had ever met in her professional life, Xander Parkinson. Even though what she was saying was supported by nearly everyone else in the room, the fact that her job title was Lead _Assistant_ meant that her ideas were worthless to him. Unfortunately, he was the one she had to convince to get the Wolfsbane Potion available on a prescription to all werewolves and he was the one who believed it was far too expensive.

Hermione had argued that it would be valuable service that would save St Mungo's thousands due to an inevitable decrease in werewolf attacks, but he had simply dismissed her. It didn't matter though; she would keep fighting until he was forced to sign on the dotted line.

As she took a deep calming breath, Hermione heard a toilet behind her flush. She glanced in the mirror and saw the door to one of the cubicles open to reveal her assistant manager from her previous position, Gwen. The two women smiled at each other.

"Rough day, pet?" Gwen inquired, making her way to the sinks. "You look frazzled."

Hermione rolled her eyes and collected her bag from the counter. "Meeting with Xander Parkinson," she explained. She was pleased to see Gwen grimace in recognition.

"Complete tosser, he is," she commented. For a moment, Gwen stared at herself in the mirror, a critical expression on her chubby features, before she turned to Hermione, looking a touch nervous. "Do I look okay?"

"Of course," Hermione replied with a smile. Now she looked at the older woman, she noticed that her robes were decidedly nicer than the ones she usually wore to work. "Why? Got something nice planned for this evening?"

The answer was written all over Gwen even before she gave it. Her cheeks flushed and her eyes lit up in a way Hermione couldn't remember them doing before. "I have a date!" she announced excitedly. "You know John from International Magical Cooperation?" Hermione had barely nodded when Gwen continued talking. She only knew _of _him but it seemed unwise to interrupt. "Well, we've been sending inter office memos to each other for weeks and the other day, out of the blue, he asked me to dinner!"

"That's great," Hermione enthused. She hadn't known Gwen have a date in the two years she had known her so she was genuinely pleased to see her happy. "I'm sure you'll have an amazing time."

Gwen's smile flickered as the nerves hit her again. "Well, at least one of us is sure."

"Gwen-" Hermione began, but she was cut off when the other woman started shaking her head.

"Don't," she said sharply. "I'm going to mess it up. I'll spill my drink on him, he'll hate how I've done my hair, the restaurant will be too cold, he'll have a problem with me being Welsh…"

"What?" Hermione laughed, as Gwen checked her reflection again. "Why on Earth would he have a problem with you being Welsh?"

"I don't know," muttered Gwen. She patted her hair down and rummaging around in her handbag as she spoke. "My accent will annoy him halfway through the starter or something. There's no way that I'm ordering the lamb!"

Hermione chuckled incredulously, but stopped when Gwen turned to her, brandishing her lipstick. "It isn't funny. You English girls never have to think about this," she said, looking almost crazy. "As soon as _I _order lamb, you can see the jokes forming behind their eyes!"

Unsure of how else to respond, Hermione nodded as Gwen turned back to the mirror and carried on her speech. "Every time you even mention sheep… you don't know how lucky you are."

"You're right," Hermione agreed, placing her hand on Gwen's shoulder in the hopes of calming her down. "I can order whatever I want while on a date – I just have to make sure that whatever it is is never left unattended or my other half will probably eat it."

Hermione was relieved to see Gwen laugh and then sigh deeply. "I'm over-thinking, aren't I?" she asked Hermione in the mirror. She just arched her eyebrows, causing Gwen to shake her head. "You should have seen me when I first realised he had asked me out on Halloween. I seriously thought I'd have to wear a costume."

As Gwen gradually became more like her bubbly self and not a nervous wreck, Hermione paid less and less attention. She looked at the cubicle behind her in the mirror as something Gwen has said had started a memory playing in her head - a memory that had taken place in a bathroom a very long time ago.

The rest of Gwen's ramblings became nothing more than static in the background, Hermione simply nodded and smiled until Gwen left the bathroom in a considerably better state than she had probably entered it in. Finally alone, Hermione looked into the mirror at her twenty-two year old self. Not just looked, but really took in what was before her – an adult with a full-time job and rent to pay. A wife with a loving husband whom she couldn't begin to picture life without. A woman with fashionable, yet professional, robes, a haircut she didn't completely hate and a life the buck-toothed, frizzy-haired, socially awkward girl she used to be was scared she would never have.

And it was mostly down to two people whom she loved dearly.

Almost in a daze, Hermione dashed out of the ladies, towards the lifts at the end of the corridor. Five minutes later, she found herself in the doorway of the Auror office, watching the two people who had changed her life for the better, throwing scrunched up balls of parchment at each other and ducking behind the walls of their cubicles.

"That was my eye!"

"So much for those Keeper reflexes, then."

There was a large crash as Ron used his wand to fire a bit of parchment at his best friend at high speed, hitting him smack in the face and knocking him off his chair.

"So much for being the bloody Saviour of Everything or whatever it is they call you."

"Dickhead."

"Knob-jockey."

"Tosser."

"Wank stain."

"Fuc-"

Hermione coughed to let her presence be known and the two men popped their heads over the sides of their respective hiding places, their eyes wide with shock. It took them a couple of seconds to realise that it was only her and not their boss before they stood up straight and smiled at her. Even though they knew they weren't in any danger of losing their jobs, Ron still looked a bit peaky.

"Hermione!" Harry exclaimed, perching on the side of his desk. "How come you're still here?"

"I was working," she replied, pushing herself off the jamb and making her way into the room. "That is usually what this building is used for."

"We just had some paperwork to catch up on," said Ron. Hermione stopped walking and gave him look that made him add, "but we finished it and got bored" in a mumble.

Even though she had tried to for years, Hermione still didn't understand their immature behaviour, never mind been able to put a stop to it. Even though they were both in their twenties now, it was still the same two childlike expressions of guilt that faced her now.

"Have you quite finished 'working'?" she asked in her best business woman voice. Both of them glanced at each other before shrugging awkwardly.

"I suppose we're done for the night," Ron said, flicking his wand and sending a few scrolls of parchment to another desk on the opposite side of the room. "What brings you up here?"

"What do you mean?"

"Well," said Harry, "you never come and see us unless you want something."

Hermione looked to Ron for support, but found him nodding in agreement with Harry. "Plus you've got that look on your face."

This time she looked to Harry and found him nodding as well. They denied it but sometimes Hermione was convinced they ganged up on her. "What look?"

Both of them looked thoughtful, as though 'that look' had never needed an explanation before.

"Like you've found something out and want to us to jump on board with some crazed plan," Harry explained, eyeing her critically.

"Yeah," Ron agreed slowly, "like the Spew look, but less crazy this time."

Hermione tried to be offended by Ron's comment but it was hard to be anything other than self-conscious with them both staring at her like they were. She took a deep breath and pushed her shoulders back. For some reason, she felt suddenly nervous.

"W-well," she began, looking between them, "it's our anniversary."

Straight away, Ron almost fell out of his chair to stand up and scramble around his desk towards her. "Shit. Your card's at home and I ordered your present weeks ago but it hasn't- wait." He stopped in his tracks as a frown formed on his face. "No, it isn't. Our anniversary is the sixth of June."

"The eighth," Hermione corrected dryly. "Nice to see you have the date memorised."

There was an uncomfortable silence as Hermione glared at her husband, Ron opened and closed his mouth several times and Harry looked anywhere other than at his two friends.

"I love you?" Ron eventually croaked.

"So what _is_ it the anniversary of?" Harry interjected when he apparently realised that anything Hermione said was going to cause an argument.

"It's Halloween," she replied in a small voice. The other two looked at her blankly and she got the feeling that she had been making her mistake. Surely they would remember _this._

"My parents' deaths?"

Harry's voice brought her out of her worry and her eyes snapped to his in horror.

"Oh! Oh, Harry," she stammered, "I-I completely forgot. I'm so sorry, I shouldn't be – forget I said-"

Harry waved his hand dismissively. Hermione never really understood how he could mention his parents so casually. He rarely seemed upset when they were mentioned in conversation, but Hermione still felt bad. "It's fine," he smiled. "What is it?"

"Ten years ago today, we all became friends," she answered with a shrug. "I just thought we should mark the day."

By the time she had finished talking, Hermione was looking at the desk in front of her. She couldn't see them, but she knew both Harry and Ron were looking at her.

"How?" Ron chuckled.

"Wrestle a troll?" suggested Harry as Hermione looked up to see them both looking faintly amused.

Really, she should have known that they wouldn't care, but laughing at her hurt more than she expected it to.

"I know it isn't the day we _all _became friends," she backtracked, "you two had your anniversary first of September-"

"I forgot that one as well," Ron cut in.

"Again," Harry sighed heavily.

Ron turned to him, a heartfelt apology written all over his face. "Sorry, Harry."

This apparently wasn't enough for Harry, who was straightening the parchment on his desk, staring at his hand intently. "I had the whole night planned," he muttered. "Bought those scented candles you like and everything."

"You've still got Ginny?"

Harry shrugged. "It's not the same."

Hermione looked from to the other. Ron appeared to be genuinely upset by Harry's melancholy tone. "Sometimes I don't know if you two are joking anymore."

"Joking?" spluttered Harry. "Do you know how much it hurts to have Ron forget your anniversary ten years on the trot?"

"No, but I have a feeling I will in a decade's time," Hermione replied sardonically, earning her a grin from Harry and noise of indignation from Ron.

"Oi! At least give me chance!"

"If you can't remember the anniversary that involves a massive troll," laughed Harry, "what chance have you got of remembering the one that involved your wedding day?"

"There was cake at that one," Ron pointed out as though the answer had been obvious.

"Fine," Hermione huffed. "If today isn't important to you two, I'll just go and leave you to your game. Sorry for getting in the way."

"Hermione…" Hermione heard Harry say as she adjusted her bag on her shoulder and starting backing away from them. She was trying to make her exit dignified, but deep down she knew she was acting childishly.

"No. I get it," she said in a clipped voice. She turned and hoped she reached the door before she did something truly silly like start crying.

"Bloody hell - Hermione!" Ron groaned behind her, but it didn't make her stop. If she were honest with herself, Hermione didn't know why this meant so much to her. It was just another day after all. It didn't mean Ron and Harry didn't think a lot about their friendship or anything.

_Still_, she thought as she approached the door, _they could act like the day their lives had intertwined and changed forever had meant _something_ to them_.

"Hermione, come back," whinged Ron as she grabbed the door handle. "Hermione! Hermi- Mrs Weasley!" he shouted authoritatively.

Hermione stopped. She usually did when Ron used that voice. He knew it sent a shiver through her.

"What?" she asked, still facing away from them. She hated how petulant her voice sounded.

When Hermione heard footsteps coming towards her from behind, she turned to see Ron approaching. He waited until he was directly in front of her before speaking.

"Hold up your left hand," he said quietly.

"Ron, don't-"

Before she could protest, Ron had grabbed the hand in question and lifted it gently so it was in front of her. "Fourth finger. Look at it."

For a moment Hermione resisted before allowing her gaze to slide away from his calm face and onto the two rings on her finger. One of them was a gold wedding band, the other silver, with a small diamond. Neither of the rings would stand out at a jewellers nor be fawned over by people who cared about such things, but to Hermione they were perfect. In fact, she loved Ron more for not picking the biggest rock he could find but an engagement ring that, while it didn't draw attention to itself, was still stunningly pretty.

She pulled her eyes back to Ron and tried to hide the smile that fighting its way into her stony expression. She was meant to be mad at him after all.

"What does that tell you?" he asked softly.

"I need to see a psychiatrist."

"You're my wife, Hermione," Ron continued as though she hadn't spoken. He dropped her hand and placed both of his on her waist. "Of course the anniversary of the first time I made you cry and very nearly got you killed means something to me."

"And I was going to buy you a ring," Harry chipped in, as Hermione glanced at him over Ron's shoulder, "but Ron beat me to it."

"See? We care." Ron moved his arms around her, pulling her closer as he leant down to kiss her. The final traces of anger were wiped away when Hermione hugged him around the waist and lightly sucked his bottom lip. Spurred on by her reciprocating, Ron slid his hands down to her backside, causing Hermione to pull away.

"Not in front of Har-"

"Harry, can you-"

"Already counting the ceiling tiles."

Grinning at his successful attempt to find a loophole in her rule, Ron kissed her again, pulling her flush against him in the process. Eventually, he broke away, leaving Hermione feeling slightly dazed as her eyes flickered open to reveal her smiling husband.

"How about," Ron suggested, "we go to a pub – Muggle obviously, thanks to The Prat Who Lived, Died and Came Back Again Just to Confuse Us All – get drunk-"

Hermione raised her eyebrows at him.

"-consume alcohol responsibly as we all have work tomorrow and then Harry can stay over ours and we can do, well…" Ron frowned for a moment. "Whatever it is… we usually… do," he finished weakly.

"Do I have to come back to yours?" asked Harry, looking faintly disgusted. Hermione felt herself blushing at the implication, but Ron, who didn't seem at all embarrassed, twisted around to glare at Harry.

"I'm not having you spend our anniversary with another woman," he objected, scandalised.

Harry snorted before collecting his cloak from the back of his chair and swinging it over his shoulders. "Sounds good to me."

Ron looked back at Hermione, as though questioning whether he had done enough to make her happy. Shyly, she glanced from him to Harry and back again, as though waiting for one of them to shout "surprise" and start laughing at her.

"You're not just saying that to humour me?" she asked sceptically.

"'Course not," Harry assured her as he clapped her on the back. "I'll even try and get the troll to make an appearance."

Hermione remembered the day like it was yesterday that she had sat in the common room by herself, doing her homework while she watched the other first years mess around and make friends. She stood by her belief that her work should come first, but inside she still yearned for a friend, just one friend, who she could sit with.

She had glanced over at Ron and Harry over by the window, ignoring their unfinished essays and throwing Chocolate Frog cards at each other. They were surely going to fail and Hermione had wanted to shout at them for disturbing her, but instead had just watched them laugh with each other.

A week later, she too had been sat at the window as they started flicking ink at one another and she had told them off for disturbing her. They had apologised, picked up their essays again and began fumbling through them with frowns of concentration on their faces. A few minutes later, Ron had kicked her under the table to get her attention and point out a blob of ink Harry had on his cheek that he hadn't noticed. Even though it was immature and she definitely didn't approve, Hermione had found herself chuckling along with Ron.

It was the first time Hermione had realised that she had friends, real friends, and that Hogwarts wasn't going to be so bad.

Looking at them now, Hermione could still see the lanky boy with dirt on his nose and the scrawny one with glasses, but they had changed so much, changed _her _so much that it almost felt like they had always been this way. It was as though she wasn't complete until she had met them – none of them had been. There were traces of the other two in all of them. In fact, sometimes it was hard to tell whose mannerisms or nervous habits were whose anymore.

They were the best friends she could've hoped for and vowed to one day pay them back for everything they had done for her, even if they hadn't realised they were doing it.

"Thank you," she whispered sincerely.

"This isn't just about you," Ron laughed. He flicked his wand and his cloak cam soaring towards them. "It's ten years of the trio!"

Harry winced as he opened the door to let the other two walk through. "Don't start calling us that."

"Just think," Ron continued, slinging his cloak around his shoulders, "if we make this a tradition, when we're sixty-one, it'll be the Golden Trio's Golden Anniversary!"

"Ron, please," Harry begged. "_The Prophet_ doing it is bad enough."

Hermione laughed lightly and looked at Ron seriously for a moment. "Who says we'll still be speaking to you then anyway?"

"Well, you have to be. You've signed the paperwork now," he pointed out smugly.

Harry fell into step with them on Hermione's other side. "I'm not under contract, but I don't think I could deny those baby blues of his," he deadpanned.

Ron roared with laughter and shoved Harry into the wall, only to be shoved himself a few seconds later. All the while, Hermione carried on walking between them as though they weren't acting like monkeys but fully-trained Aurors and national heroes.

"How did I end up with you two?" she sighed when they had finished.

"I think it was something about a feather," Harry replied, "Ron's people skills and Professor McGonagall not being sure of what the correct procedure is when dealing with three first years, a mountain troll and a destroyed girls' toilets."

Ron frowned down at Hermione. "I'm still not over you losing us those five house points, you know."

"Yeah," agreed Harry grumpily, "_thanks_, Hermione."

"Oh, grow up."

Shaking her head in resignation but smiling anyway, Hermione linked arms with both of them, her best friend and her husband, the Chosen One and the King, and started dragging them towards the lifts, secretly hoping that the day that they grew up never came.

* * *

_Thanks for reading and happy Halloween!_


End file.
